


she was the one to turn

by QueenOfCarrotFlowers



Series: Carrot's Canonverse Fics [10]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, F/M, Force Healing, Post TLJ, Resurrection, TROS trailer inspired, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2020-12-29 08:48:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21137174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfCarrotFlowers/pseuds/QueenOfCarrotFlowers
Summary: "And now I lift the veil, and you shall see what you have wrought."A slightly speculative oneshot based on a few scenes from the TROS trailer.





	she was the one to turn

**Author's Note:**

> As the tags imply there is a death (which happens before the story begins) and that death is reversed by the time the story ends.
> 
> Three million cheers for flypaper_brain, my beta, whom I adore and who made this story better than it would have been otherwise.

There is the sound of breathing. Heavy breathing, but quick. The type of breathing that someone might have after a long run, or a hard session of practicing forms. Then the quick but steady _whoosh_ of blood. Heartbeats. Close, close, close, loud in her ear. Breaths and heartbeats, overwhelming at first but becoming steadily softer with every passing second. 

They are hers. 

But they can’t be hers, they can’t, because she is asleep. She is asleep, has been asleep and this is all a dream. But when you're asleep and dreaming you aren’t standing, sopping wet and chilled to the bone, your heart beating faster than a vulptex runs, breathing so intense you can feel your shoulders move, teeth chattering so violently you’re afraid they might vibrate right out of your head.

Lightsaber in your hand, blue and thrumming, the only heat in this dim, bitter place. 

It smells of metal and damp, along with a scent that is more familiar - fire. The aroma of the room she stands in contains a very faint undercurrent of burning. It reminds her of… something. Another place, another time, just on the edge of her sleep-addled mind, like a glimpse of something out of the corner of her eye. She is wet and cold and her mouth is open, and she thinks this is the strangest dream she’s ever had.

Her eyes are drawn to an object that lays on the ground, just by her feet. It is large, formless, black, familiar; a tendril of grey smoke curls up from a gash that opens across its rounded back. Yes, its back. His back. She can see now that the object is in fact a person, a man, curled up, head down, knees tucked under. He is very large and in life must have stood very tall. His clothing is black and his hair too; it lies in sopping waves across the floor around his head. The scent of burning that she had noticed earlier is coming from this person. She nudges his shoulder with the toe of her boot, but there is no response. She knows him, has seen him lying like this before, although she does not know who he is.

The breathing and the heartbeats have slowed down to the point where they are almost too slow. A great exhaustion overtakes her, spots behind her eyes; she realizes only now that her muscles are weary, and her feet and head are sore. Her hand, where it grips the handle of the lightsaber, is cramped, as though she’s been holding it tightly for a long time. She turns off the beam and clips it to her belt, then presses her palms and fingers together to stretch them all out; the gesture feels like praying, and something throbs in her chest. She gazes back down at the man lying at her feet.

The voice calls from the darkness off to her right. It is low and dark, broken and wrong, just like the room they are in. There is an object over there, she can just see it lurking beyond the point where the light filtering in from the broken window behind her can reach. The voice seems to come from that object, although she cannot tell what it is.

"And now,” the voice croons, “I lift the veil to show you what you have wrought."

* * *

Rey is awake, and Ben is dead at her feet. He is dead by her hand; her stomach churns with this absolute certainty, and her heart cries out in silent anguish. 

“Look at him,” the voice says - Palpatine, she knows it now, knows him and Ben and herself, most of all. “The last of the great Skywalker line, bested by a scavenger from Jakku.” He spits the words like poison, and they would sting if Rey were listening. But she isn’t. All she sees is Ben, his dead body, curled up at her feet like a sleeping child. She understands now why this feels familiar; this is what happened in the throne room on the Supremacy, after Ben killed Snoke (_killed him for you_, her grieving mind adds helpfully) and they fought - and won - together, against the red armored guards. She remembers that short-lived moment of triumph and relief before they'd fought each other and both of them had lost consciousness after the lightsaber split apart. She'd awakened first and left him, sleeping peacefully amongst the burning detritus of their battle. She’d kissed his temple and she’d cried, her heart broken into pieces, but she couldn’t stay. But this, this is so much worse. Worse because he is dead, and because she knows that she struck him down herself. Palpatine’s voice drones on, but all she hears is the shattering of her own heart.

She lowers herself to the ground, rolls Ben over, and takes his head in her lap. He is heavy and she is strong, but her muscles are weak, exhausted from a battle she can’t remember. Rey runs the fingers of one shaking hand through his hair and holds the back of his head with her other. Her tears fall unnoticed onto his pale cheek and she tries, desperately, to remember how they came to be here.

She’d been with her friends - Chewie and Finn and Poe; C3PO and R2D2 had been there, too. Something was calling her, and had been for days. She wanted it. Ben came to her through the Bond, and she told him what was happening, and he warned her away. But Rey didn’t want to be warned away; she wanted to _know_, so she convinced her friends to come with her, to follow the call. Maybe it would help the cause. They went with her until they saw where it was she was leading them: to the skeleton of the second Death Star, where Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader had faced off until Vader had murdered his master and the giant weapon had somehow ended up in the sea on Kef Bir. 

Her friends urged her not to go but she continued on, and it was on that hulking, rusting beast that Ben finally found her. He begged her to leave with him but she refused, and they fought. _She_ fought; he only parried her attacks. But the call was too strong and she followed it, past his crackling red blade and into the crumbling place that was once the throne room of the great and horrible Emperor Palpatine. 

The call to Rey was coming from that room, and her heart dropped when she discovered that it was coming from the undead Emperor himself.

Palpatine wanted Ben. He’d wanted to take Ben, to possess him, to drain the power of the last of the Skywalker line and absorb it into his decrepit body as he had done, apparently, to many others. But Rey wouldn’t let it happen. She wanted Ben to live, so she offered herself instead. That was the last thing she remembered clearly. After that there were many words; words that she didn’t hear, much as she isn’t hearing the words he is speaking now - yes, the Emperor is still speaking from his lair just on the other side of the shadow. For long minutes he talks, bragging and gloating, explaining exactly how he had managed to stay alive and fool everyone and bend the dark side of the Force to his will. So much meaningless chatter, and Ben is dead in her lap. Palpatine talks and Rey holds Ben as close as she can, and she tries to remember.

But there is nothing, nothing before she awakens on her feet, heartbeats and breathing loud in her ears, the only person who ever really knew her dead at her feet. Not dead but _murdered_, murdered by _her_, the evidence of her crime a smoking wound.

A wound cut through Ben’s body, which Rey pulls into her lap, laying his head against her shoulder. She is so exhausted she can barely stay upright, but she can do this. She shudders with sobs, and Palpatine is still talking.

“Weakness,” he declares, “so much weakness weaved with his strength. And his main weakness, my dear? Do you know?”

She hears him but she does not answer. There is something instead, a tickle at the edge of her mind; another glimpse from the corner of her eye. She concentrates on this thing that has her attention and her sobs weaken. Palpatine gloats but the meaning of his words rolls off of her like drifts of sand around the half-buried cabin of a long-abandoned TIE fighter. 

“His main weakness was you, his compassion for you. He refused to fight you, refused even to defend himself against you lest he injure you. Can you believe that?”

His laugh is a hole in the world.

“He _loved_ his mother, yes, and his father - foolish man. A foolish son for a foolish father. But you are not foolish, are you? You have never let your compassion for another weaken you, allowed _love_ to soil your strength. That is why you are stronger than he ever was.” The word _love_ from his mouth is bitter and wrong, and it makes her cringe. But only a little; she is soothed by the tickle which has developed into something more. Something warm, that crawls under her skin and makes her feel that she is not alone. Ben is _with her_, he’s there, even though his body is dead in her arms. There is no ghost, nothing visible to indicate his presence. But she knows him, better than she has ever known anyone or has even hoped to. He is with her and she weeps again although this time her tears are not of sadness.

Palpatine misinterprets her tears, and laughs, a bleak, oily, ugly thing, entwined with hate and darkness. He shuffles closer, to the very edge of the shadow, but Rey does not look up.

“You will not remember, child, what he said to you after I drained his power, and before you plunged your saber through his body. I will tell you; it is important for you to know.”

Rey knows already, she can feel it, but there is no point in telling him that, so she allows him to continue speaking. He moves into the light, closer, slowly, until he is standing next to her. A dessicated claw that was once the hand of a man reaches down and grips her chin with surprising strength. She follows its lead, lifting her head to gaze into the eyes of the thing that was once the most powerful Force user in the Galaxy.

He is nothing now, although he does not know it. His appearance, grotesque as it is, means nothing to her. The only thing that matters to Rey is the glow of the Force that embraces her, and Ben with it. There are others there, too, she can sense them; she only knows Luke, and Han, but there are many more, and they are with her and they make her strong. 

Palpatine, for all his inelegant gloating, seems not to notice. Rey does her best to keep her face neutral as his fetid breath wafts onto her cheeks from the void that used to be his mouth. 

“What was it, then,” she asks, pleased with how steady she is able to hold her voice, despite her fear. “What did he say?”

“He told you,” tilting his head - or whatever lies under the hood of his black cloak - just slightly to one side, cold amusement in his voice, “that he _loved_ you.” 

Rey’s disinterested expression almost slips. She knows that he loves her. Somehow, she had always known. But it would have been good to hear it from his own lips, even once. It doesn’t really matter, however, because he is with her, his presence in the Force is warm and growing stronger with every passing moment. He loves her even in death, and she loves him.

Palpatine squeezes the fingers that hold her chin, and shakes his head once. “Such a foolish man. Strong in the Force, but otherwise weak as an infant.”

“You’re wrong,” she says, before she even realizes what she is doing. Palpatine, clearly not expecting this, freezes, and for the first time she feels the cold energy of whatever piece of the Force he has bent to his will.

“What did you say?”

The warmth of the unblemished Force and everyone in it is in her, surrounds her, and it is because of the love she holds - for Ben, and her friends, for life and the Galaxy and everything in it - that she can wield it. She doesn’t know how she knows this, but she does. She has absolute certainty.

“I said you’re wrong.” She shakes her head and his hand falls. “He wasn’t weak, and I’m not stronger than he was. You believed that you could set us against each other, but it was foolish of you to believe you could control us. We are stronger together. And with the full power of the Force behind us, we are more powerful than you can imagine.”

Displeasure rolls off him, and confusion. He probes her then, dark threads of the Force gentle but intent. It’s an unpleasant sensation, but it does not bother her. She feels his sneer before she hears it.

“You are not together; he is dead. You killed him! And look at you; you have no strength left, girl. You have never been weaker in your life.”

Rey clutches Ben’s lifeless body closer before she deigns to answer him. She speaks through teeth clenched in anger.

“The reason that you cannot sense my strength in the Force is the same reason that people on Yavin IV cannot sense the Outer Rim.” 

Palpatine makes a noise of frustration in his throat. He takes a step back and raises his claw-like hands, fingers curled, and Rey senses his intent - he will bring the veil back down, re-possess her with his crooked, dark Force and use her up so he can keep living. 

“I’m afraid that won’t work.” Her words are clear and sharp in the cold darkness, but Palpatine only laughs at her.

“Silly girl,” he scoffs, raising his hands again. This time she can feel the pressure of his attempt, although it does nothing to her. “Why do you think you can resist me? I, who have bent the Force to my will and drained the powers of many over one hundred years?”

“It’s simple. You have no power.”

Rey isn’t entirely sure what happens next. One moment Palpatine is there, looming over them, and the next moment a light fills her, bright and powerful - and thrust with a vein of darkness. It is the darkness she reaches for. The light pulses, and she _twists_, aiming the darkness at that creature. Instantly she can feel the power draining from him, and as she takes that power she twists it, too, and the light grows. Wrapping her arms around Ben and laying her palms against his torso, over his now-cold wound, Rey redirects this new light into him. She has no idea what she is doing, and the work is intense; it wearies her to the point that she fears she won't be able to continue. But she presses on, the celebration she can feel in the Force tells her that what she is doing is right.

Minutes later it’s all over. Palpatine is gone, along with the heavy gloom that had filled the throne room. The chamber is still dark and cluttered with the dusty detritus of the past but it is friendlier, and the moonlight shining through the window is fresh and clean. The sound of the ocean waves crashing against the metal frames below is barely audible; Rey finds it soothing. 

Ben shifts in her arms; a small sigh escapes his lips as he rubs his face against her shoulder. He is sleeping, and she wonders if he dreams.

Gently, carefully, she rolls Ben’s body - skin now tinged pink, and warm to her touch - onto the ground, and she lays down beside him on his right side. She is physically exhausted, and her body cries out its thanks as she stretches her muscles and tucks her left arm under his right, reaching up to entwine her fingers in his hair and lowering her head to rest it on his shoulder. 

Rey has longed to do this, and now she can.

She pushes down her regret and gingerly places the palm of her right hand over Ben's abdomen, where she pushes her fingers through the hole in his tunic her lightsaber made when she struck him through. Gingerly she touches his soft skin; she rubs it, and her cheeks burn when she realizes she is enjoying this inspection perhaps a bit more than she should. The wound that had cut him through is gone completely; there is no sign of a scar.

Eventually Rey sleeps, and when she awakens soft yellow beams of sunlight are shining through the window and a strong hand grips her shoulder, holding her close. As she slowly returns to consciousness the hand crawls lower, thumb caressing the scar that marks the soft skin between where her sleeve ends and her arm wrap begins. The floor beneath her is hard and uncomfortable, but she is dry, and warm, and very happy.

"Rey...." Ben almost moans her name, his voice deep and gravelly from sleep. "Is it morning? Whe--" His voice trails off and he pauses to rub the palm of his left hand against his forehead, blinking his eyes and taking in their surroundings. When he speaks again his voice is quieter and laced with confusion. "What happened? I don't remember anything after we entered the throne room."

Rey smiles and breathes in his scent. It is familiar and fills her with a particular joy.

“We won." She scoots closer, drawing her right arm around his torso. “We won, Ben. Palpatine is gone.”

Without a word he pulls her onto him, and she finds herself straddling his stomach, face-to-face. She is breathless with surprise, and as she considers her flustered thoughts Ben tucks a stray curl behind her ear.

"I want you to tell me everything, but not now. Right now I just want to be with you. I need…" his eyes glance down to her lips and then back up to her eyes. She can feel his longing, his affection for her through their bond, and it warms her heart. 

"I need _you_," he admits, his honey eyes shining in the dawn's light. "And I want to be with you. I love you."

She thought she knew what his love for her felt like, but tears fall from her eyes and it feels like something in her soul settles into place as a warm and powerful sensation surrounds her, fills her, after she hears him say those simple words. Once heard, she finds that she needs to say them, too; she needs Ben to hear her say them to him.

“I love you, Ben.” 

The Force sings with joy and Rey presses her lips against his. The kiss lasts for a long time, and Rey makes a silent promise to herself that she will never turn again.

**Author's Note:**

> One point if you caught the reference to _Aftermath_  
Two points if you caught the reference to _The Labyrinth_  
Three points if you caught the reference to _Good Omens_
> 
> [Force Drain is a thing! Anakin Skywalker used it once to revive a deceased Ahsoka Tano.](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Force_drain)
> 
> Kudos and comments are my bread and butter, please leave one if you liked this.
> 
> I am @FlowerOfCarrots on Twitter come scream at me about Star Wars


End file.
